Change
by kittiesrock90210
Summary: "Fang, experiences and events change people; you of all people should know that." Fang hasn't seen Max since he was sixteen; five years ago. When he see her again, well, she's nothing like the girl he had remembered from years ago. FAX AU AH
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, new story.**

**This prologue/first chap is intensely short, and I can assure you that the rest of the chapters will be longer. I cross my heart.**

**Highlight of the Day: A cop came into our school to give a presentation about violence. When she was finished, she said she'd be back on Friday to give a presentation on drugs. My principal walked up and said "We love drugs."**

Prologue

Sometimes life comes at you like a giant cosmic sucker punch that hurts like a tidal wave of BITCH. That's how I felt the day she told me.

She was the one person I'd always known, ever since I could remember. When we were little, she'd pull my hair, beat me at certain sports, splash mud on my face; the type of girl that made you believe that cooties weren't 100% real, and some girls didn't get infected. She was the type of girl who beat guys up and got sent to the principal's office more than anyone else in the school.

When we got to high school, she was the type of girl who held her own ground; she didn't require a boyfriend. She didn't feel the need to land a senior guy (not that she couldn't) and she hardly ever wore make-up. She wore modest clothes, said whatever she wanted no matter who was listening, and never kept her feminist opinion to herself.

She was smart, she was gorgeous, she was athletic, she was sarcastic, she was bold, she was brave. I'd eventually concluded that she was perfect. The girl I'd known my whole life, the girl I could depend on any day for anything, the only girl I really wanted; and she was moving away. I was falling.

I stood there with her on the driveway, her head on my own, and I could feel her breath on my face and she was trying her best not to cry. The moving truck was parked to the side, and her mom was waiting for her.

"I'll keep in touch," she promised. "I'll call you all the time and I'll come back as soon as I can, I swear."

I nodded.

She blinked away tears. "I'll miss you."

I nodded. "Same here. I love you."

She started to cry, "God Fang, how am I supposed to live without you?"

I hugged her. "I thought you were invincible, right? You'll make it. You'll make amazing friends and you'll have a great time."

She shook her head. "It won't be the same."

"It won't be the same without you there," she cried and I brushed a few stray tears from her cheeks.

Her mom blew the car horn loudly, signaling her that it was time to go. My head was pounding. She began to walk away. She was flawless, perfect, the best girl in the world. I didn't want her to leave.

I reached out to her and grabbed her wrist, turning her towards me. "Don't ever change." I muttered.

She nodded. "Don't change on me either."

She turned back and climbing into the passenger side of the truck. Her mom revved up the engine and I watched the truck go down the street until it was completely out of sight.

"I love you Max."

Chapter 1

"Where the fuck are the chips?" Chris yelled.

"Shut up douche, they're coming!" I scowled.

I hurried and popped open the bag, and went to the fridge to pull out the beers. Heineken, not everyone's favorite, but for some reason, that's all I have.

"Nick, you faggot, hurry up!"

I cursed under my breath and pulled open several different drawers, tossing aside different utensils. I eventually found the right on and grabbed the bottle opener, popping open the bottles, one by one, tossing the caps in to the recycling. That's right, Fang Mason is saving the earth. "The game doesn't start for twenty minutes, so calm down!"

It's a tradition, or at least for the past year and a half. Every Sunday we got together to watch the game, just us guys, no girlfriends allowed. Not like I have one, but Chris, the biggest tool, has a new one every week. Iggy's's been with Carly for three months now, and Gazzy just dumped Stacy. The rest of them are single, I think. And as for football Sundays, it's not always at my place 'cause we change it up every week, so my place isn't always trashed, sometimes they deal with the mess too.

Anyway, it's just another Sunday with the guys, waiting for the game to start. Colts against the Giants, and I'm betting on the Colts. I'd hate to lose $100 to Iggy… and that's when I hear singing. Coming from the room they were in.

"What the fuck are you guys doing?" I yelled at them from the kitchen.

"There's some concert going on at Central Park. We're watching it until the game starts. Where are the chips?"

"Welcome back to the Central Park showcase. It's where you see that songs that just might be chart toppers in a few months. All your favourite artists. That was just Katy Perry with 'Peacock' a brand new track. You can head to stores or get her new album on iTunes sometime in August."

I rolled my eyes, and grabbed all the stuff, five beers in each hand and three bag of chips tucked under my arms. I don't know how I do it, I'm just that awesome.

I walked into the room, where they were staring intently at the T.V. I placed the stuff on the table, and looked at them weirdly. "What the fuck is so interesting?"

"Dude, this chick's really hot." Ethan said without removing his eyes from the screen.

I glanced at the screen, where a girl was crossing the stage holding a guitar. She was skinny, with a mess of blonde/brown hair. She was wearing some beat up, scrappy excuse of a dress, which fell loosely off her shoulders. Her fucking bra straps were showing, on live television. In front of _children._

"Wow, classy," I said sarcastically, then checked her out, "but she's got nice legs."

"Um, this is my first time performing here in New York, so be nice. Actually, my manager told me to say that, I don't really give a shit." the girl said, her mop of hair covering up her eyes, but her smile was easy to see. Perfect white teeth shining.

Sam gazed at her. "I'd get with that."

Chris laughed. "You'd get with anyone. Remember that chick you picked up last weekend?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Sam scowled, and turned back to the television.

The girl tapped her hand lightly against her guitar. "So anyway, this is my new song that's going to be on my album. Apparently, because this is an 'advertising' thing where you only play part of the song, you won't hear the whole thing, but anyway, this is my new song 'Hit and Quit'"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Watch this song be about some guy who hurt her feelings because he got with her, then left."

I shrugged, taking a sip from my beer. "Probably."

"Why do chicks always get so pissy about that type of stuff? Honestly, why is every single moment so goddamn emotional for them? You sleep with them, and it's like 'I love you!' in the morning."

"I don't know, maybe guys are just total dicks," I suggested, "but after years of behavioral patterns, you think that they would catch on."

Chris clapped. "Thank you, someone who understands. Tell Cindy that."

Sam frowned. "Who the fuck's Cindy?"

Tim smiled. "Chris's new 'girlfriend'. I give it four days."

Chris glared. "Why do you show no faith in me.?"

"Because of years of behavioural patterns. You can't keep a chick, or you just don't want to."

"Why hasn't the girl on t.v. started singing yet?" Gazzy said from the side.

"I don't know. They're getting the band ready?" I shrugged.

Chris was ready to explode. "You know what? I'm going to keep Cindy for a month."

Tim smirked. "I bet five hundred you couldn't last."

"Yeah, you're on. It's not fun to lose money."

The girl on the T.V., strummed her guitar, and we refocused on the television.

"_Baby you're some hot stuff_

_Think you're a super star_

_Well maybe we can go do it_

_In the back of your car_

_Or maybe I'll let you take me_

_Back to your place_

_But don't make the mistake of_

_Thinking I'll stay"_

Iggy shook his head. "She's hard core."

"_I don't have time _

_For all of this shit_

_Don't get your hopes up_

'_Cause I hate relationships_

_I do one night stands_

_Straight from the club_

_Let me break it to ya_

_I don't believe in love_

_And you think I'm a slut, _

_I don't give a shit_

_Because the motto I live by_

_Is hit and quit"_

The football game had momentarily been forgotten.

Chris didn't blink. "I think I found my god."

"Holy Shit." Sam said.

I disregarded it, and took a drink of my beer. I'd seen other girls like her, the ones who think they are the shit. "She's probably just some stuck up bitch."

"Dude, are you gay or something? She's hot!"

I shrugged. "I'm just saying."

Tim glared at me. "Come on man, when was the last time you had a girlfriend or anything? Like a relationship, not just dicking around with some girl?"

I rolled my eyes. "Aly."

Chris laughed. "Oh yeah, that was a mess."

"You think? What clued you in, when she set me on fire, or when she brought out the shot gun?"

Tim was still glaring. "Some of us can find happiness."

"Yeah, well girls are idiots, at least 80% of them. They all think they are the shit, or they annoy the fuck out of you. They need you to complement them 24/7 for them to show any form of self esteem, they cling onto you and try to kill you for so much as glancing at another girl. There's so much more to it."

"Maybe you just can't get a girl you wants you other than being just another lay."

"Maybe I don't want to have a relationship Tim!"

"Maybe no one really wants you."

I have anger issues. "Tim, stop being such a little bitch. Just calm you shit."

Tim jumped up and punched my nose, which had almost no effect. I pushed him back, and got ready to kill him.

"Don't Nick," Chris warned.

"Whatever." I muttered, and people cleared a spot for me on the couch, and I took a long drink from my beer.

"Nick, you don't have to be a douche about it."

I ignored him completely. Iggy came and plopped down beside me.

I grabbed the remote, but then the host or whatever started to talk. "That was Maximum Ride right there, who's just been rocketing her way into stardom, taking the music industry by storm, with her 'bad girl' attitude. Next up, we have Boys Like Girls performing, right after the break."

Maximum Ride. Holy fucking shit.

**If you've made it all the way down here, you probably have read the chapter. Could you please review? Please? Reviews are like a pot of gold at the end of a river…not really expected but you're sure damn glad it's there. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Harro!**

**Sorry for the long, long, long wait for me to update (rhymes!), but I've been one busy little cat. So here's chapter 2! Yay!**

**Highlight of the day: I was at soccer practice and the coach was yelling at us, saying "Come on girls, you just have to kick the ball in the net! It's not rocket science!" To which I replied "No, it's physics!" He was speechless.**

I pulled out my laptop as soon as all the guys were gone, completely ignorant of the huge mess occupying my couch. I'd get to that later; this was way more important. I opened up the internet and went to Youtube. I prayed to god I had been mistaken.

I clicked on the search bar and typed in _Maximum Ride_ and hit enter. Maybe I had been wrong about it... because Maximum was such a common name, right (note sarcasm). I watched as the screen illuminated displaying different video results. I scrolled through them all, and from what I could see, Maximum Ride was a mainstream music artist. Max had never been that good at music and stuff, at least I think. For the first time I wished I really listened to a shitload of mainstream music, just to see.

I clicked on a video labelled _Maximum Ride: The next big star._

The screen illuminated. A song was playing in the background, which I immediately identified as _Your so Damn Hot_ by OKgo. A reporter starting talking as video of the girl, "Maximum Ride" started playing.

"Maximum Ride is an Arizona born singing sensation that has risen to fame rapidly in the past few months. Her songs which all seem to be oriented around 'casual sex' have been attacking radios everywhere."

She was in the background, walking up the red carpet in a black dress that pushed her boobs up dramatically, looking pretty slutty in general.

"Maximum, could we have a word?"

Maximum looked up. "Uhhh, sure."

"How were you discovered?"

She smiled lazily. "It was pretty coincidental. I'd been playing my guitar and singing down by the beach. I'd spent the day there with some friends, but those bitches ditched me, so I was trying to play to get enough money for bus fare. I was supposed to be playing down at this little cafe. People were tossing money and stuff, and then this guy tossed a business card in there and was all like 'call me'. I thought he was a creeper, but I called him anyways a couple days later. He was a music producer. It went up from there."

"So, when did you start playing music?"

She looked thoughtful. "Once I snuck into a bar with my friends when I was seventeen and we all got totally wasted. I sang some karaoke. I think that was the first time I did anything musical."

"Underage drinking Miss Ride?" The reporter asked innocently.

"Got a problem with that?" Maximum replied with a bored expression on her face, and an icy undertone.

"Um, thanks for your time."

Maximum put on a little smug smile, and I knew that all hope that I had been mistaken was false. I'd seen Max give me that look a million times before while growing up, when we were three years old, and when we were teenagers. It was her trademark look.

But she was so different at the same time. I mean, what happened to the girl who wore her tracksuit most of the time, and refused to wear makeup? The girl who wore modest clothes and _made fun_ of girls who dressed like total sluts? Did someone make a Max clone who had a different personality? That seemed more likely than her changing to be...like that.

I clicked on another video, and then another, but they were all the same. Max talking back to reporters and dressing like a whore; don't get me wrong, Max looked like sex on legs, no doubt. But it wasn't _her._ It was like someone was playing some sort of sick joke on me.

Just then the door to my apartment swung open. "Hey Nick, have you seen my brother?"

Angel walked over and flopped down on my couch. Angel was my friend Gazzy's little sister. She's seventeen, and I swear, if I was in high school, I would've been wheeling her. She's intensely hot, even though she's a lot younger, but most of us guys agree she's pretty sexy. I mean, she's got this gorgeous angelic face and everything and curves like an angel too. If Gazzy found out what I was thinking, he'd kill me.

"He left my house over an hour ago," I told her.

She cursed. "Damn. My mom sent me to go after that son of a bitch but I have no fucking idea where he is. 'Honey, can you please go find your brother for me? He's supposed to be coming over for dinner.' Just fuck it."

I rolled my eyes. "Language Angel."

She turned towards me with a cute little smile on her face. "Sorry Nicky."

"Here, I'll call him for you, okay?" I asked her, picking up my phone.

"He doesn't have his phone. I tried calling him."

I shrugged. "Maybe that's because he saw your number and didn't want to answer. You know, because of how your stalker friends always use your phone to call him."

She slapped my arm. "My friends are not fucking stalkers Fang!"

"Uhuh, sure." I ran through my contacts until I found Gazzy's number and called, putting the phone to my ear.

"God, you're such a dick." Angel muttered.

I bit my tongue back from replying _then suck me._ Because then she'd tell Gazzy about it and I'd get in shit for "_leading her on"_ again.

"Hello?" Gazzy picked up at the other end.

"Hey it's Nick. You sister is in my apartment and she's—"

"What, my sister's in your apartment? Dude, I thought we talked about this, she's seventeen, she doesn't know what she's doing! God man, I thought you were my friend."

I face palmed. "Gazzy, she just walked in okay? She took the spare key and walking in _without my permission_, okay? She's looking for you, something about dinner with mom."

"Shit fuck! I forgot. Um, just tell her I'm stuck in traffic and I'll be there in ten." Gazzy hung up the phone quickly.

Angel rolled her eyes. "He forgot, didn't he?"

I shook my head. "He's stuck in traffic. He'll be there in ten minutes."

She put her hands on her curvy little hips. "I know you're lying Nick."

According to Gazzy, Angel always seems to know what's on people minds, or what they're thinking, or if they're lying. It's creepy, because I don't think she's ever been wrong.

"Okay, he forgot. He's on his way. Now get out," I told her, walking to open the door.

She pouted while putting on her famous Bambi eyes. "Nick..." she whined

"No."

"Can I please stay here instead? My mom is so annoying. She'll bug me endlessly about things I don't care about and try to prowl through my social life."

I gave her a stern look. "No."

Gazzy once told me that Angel had this creepy little crush on me, and I didn't mind that much, but Gazzy got all worried.

"_I know she looks like she's all innocent and everything and you think it's cute," he warned, "it's not. She doesn't understand boundaries. She won't hesitate with you just because you're older than her. She's too naive."_

And that's how the story goes folks.

"Angel, out. Now." I said strictly, like I was her dad or something.

She gave me a cute little pout before exiting. I closed the door behind her and locked it. I turned my attention back to the computer. I logged on Facebook and looked up Maximum Ride. Her profile pic? Her in some incredibly short dress making out with some guy.

Then my eyes landed on her wall.

_I'm going to be signing autographs at the Rockefeller Centre after the Central Park Concert tonight until 10:00. Come check me out. Actually._

I didn`t even think, I just grabbed my keys and ran. The Rockefeller Centre was only a twenty minutes drive form where I lived, at least the way I drove. It would take the average person a little bit longer, but I like to drive fast.

I locked my apartment behind me, and moved the spare key from under my doormat to under the fire extinguisher; though I knew Angel would find it in no time. Again. I got in the elevator and hit the button to get to the parking lot, anticipation burning inside of me. I searched through the lot. _Fuck where did I park? _I scanned over the cars, my eyes eventually landing on my black 2003 Honda Civic.

What? Did you expect me to drive a mustang or some other intensely cool car? Ha, yeah right. Not with what I got paid. What can I say? My boss is cheap.

I jumped into my car and made my way out of the parking garage. I sped down the streets, weaving in and out of traffic like it was nothing, maintaining a average speed ten or twenty miles per hour over the speed limit. Thank god it was a Sunday, so the traffic wasn't half as bad as it was on work days. I got to the Rockefeller Centre in record time (17 minutes, 37 seconds) and parked my car. It wasn't difficult to find the line up; it was huge. I stared at it for a moment.

That's when I realized I had absolutely no fucking idea what I was going to say or do. _Hi Max, remember me, Fang? You never called me back when we were sixteen._

And as I got into line, I realized how stupid I felt. I mean, what was I doing there? Max had been my friend like, five years ago. Would she even want to see me? I mean, there must have been a reason we kind of fell off and got distant, right?

_You're obsessing over this like a chick_ the normal part of my brain told me, so I stopped and took a deep breath.

I'm just going to walk right over to her, and say hi. That's it. I'll ask her how she's been, how life is for her, ask her when she became all different—never mind, I wouldn't mention that, but I'd just act cool. Yeah, that's it.

Then I was ushered into the room by security and I got a look at her. _Oh damn._

See, back in the days, Max was like a tomboy. She hardly ever got dressed up, living most of her life in grass-stained, ripped jeans and an oversized t-shirt. But as well as she hid them, Max still had killer curves and a rack, even back then. Maybe she didn't know it, but I did. I probably knew her body better than she did.

Whoa, before you get all "you're a pervert" on me, I spent more time with Max than I can even remember. How could I _not_ have her memorized by heart? Plus, I was a teenage guy. Nuff said.

I looked up at Max again. Her messy hair fell loosely around her shoulders, like a frame to her face; _God I sound poetic._ She smiled at the girl in front of the desk as she handed the girl an autographed picture. The girl was ushered away by security as the next person stepped up.

The line moved at a painfully slow speed. Actually. But it was for Max, so I was going to stay there and wait.

God I feel desperate. Or at least I look it. I mean, waiting in line for an hour for a girl? Yeah, I know. Totally un-me like.

"Why hello," Max said to the guy in front of me. He was younger than me, maybe a senior in high school, dressed in polo and jeans.

"Um, uhhhh, hi!" he responded slowly, looking like he was about to pass out. I mean, really?

Max smiled. "Who's this addressed to?"

"M-mike," he stuttered.

Max looked down to the photo and wrote _To Mike, From Maximum Ride_, and finished it off with a great big heart. He looked like he would have a heart attack as security pulled him away. Poor kid.

"Um, hi, who do I make this out to?" Max said, looking down at the photo without even sending a glance in my direction.

I swallowed. "Hey Max, it's Fang. Fang Mason, remember me? I know I haven't talked to you in a while but I saw you on T.V and thought I'd say hi."

She didn't even look at me. "Well it's nice to meet you and everything, and thanks for coming out to see me. My career is made possible by fans like you. Have a nice day." She finished, handing me a photograph.

I didn't want a fucking photo graph. "Max, it's me, remember? We used to be best friends."

She looked up at me, and smiled sweetly. "Have a nice day sir." She replied through gritted teeth as she bobbed her head towards me. The security came and took my arm, but I shook it off.

"I can walk out myself," I growled as I stepped away. I walked out and to my car in frustration as I unlocked it and sat inside. I crumpled up the autograph and stuffed it into my pocket as I drove home slowly. I pulled into the parking garage mad as hell. I just wasted my time.

And the worst part? She didn't even acknowledge me, and then she got security to take me out, I mean _really_? Fuck. Just fuck her. What a bitch.

I walked to the elevator and punched the up button. I waited for half a minute before the elevator doors slid open with a _ding!_

When I got up to my apartment I went to get food. I needed to have a therapeutic Doritos eating session while watching some Wipeout.

Later on that night, I emptied out my pockets before going to bed. Some gum, my keys, a beer can tab. I reached into the other one and pulled out the autograph. I was about to toss it out when the silvery writing caught my attention. I quickly straightened out at the crumples.

_Hey Fang!_

_Hoy shit, it's you! Call me sometime at 212-463-8898. We'll hang out._

_p.s. Look like my little boy is all grown up and sexy ;)_

Oh. That makes it different.

**Please review!**


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